


Everything

by AmyNChan



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: But what does she do then???, Chloe-centric - Freeform, Gen, iShrug, people have Chloe walk off so many times, romance really isn't a huge part of this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:15:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9607163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNChan/pseuds/AmyNChan
Summary: I wrote a Chloe-centric piece that got away from me.  Oops.  ^^;





	

Chloe stormed away, anger in her heart and tears threatening to even dare invade her eyes.  But she wouldn’t cry.  She absolutely would not.  Anger was easier to deal with.  She could scream and bark orders and she could probably get her daddy to pay for a spa treatment and everything would be right with the world again.

Except it wouldn’t.

The blonde grit her teeth as she barged out of the school grounds, ignoring the sounds of the street in order to harness her anger.

Anger was, after all, the easiest to deal with.

How dare she?  That girl had been so easy to pick on.  It had been so simple to push her around and get what she wanted out of her.  Lunch money, though she had no need of it, entertainment, at the expense of her feeble self-confidence, a sense of power, which she always thrived on.  It used to be so _easy!_   The girl had never been more than _trash!_

So how dare such a spineless and pathetic wimp talk back to her?  How dare she filch her fame?  What gave her the right to speak up to Chloe in such a manner?  How.  Dare.  She?

“Mademoiselle Bourgeois,” stated the foreman.  “Are you not to be attending school?”

“I’m not going today,” snapped Chloe.  “Can’t you tell I feel awful?  I can’t believe daddy even let me leave my room looking this horrible!”

“Very well, Mademoiselle.”

With that out of the way, Chloe strode through the door and made her way directly to the elevator.  The twinkling decorations and open foyer sometimes made her feel better, but not this time.  She jammed her finger into the number for her floor.

Being in the elevator forced her to be still, so Chloe had to figure out some way to occupy herself.  Brooding worked well, though she had already done quite a bit of brooding on _that girl_.  How such a weak child that used to cry when her pigtails got pulled turned into one of the largest annoyances in Chloe’s entire elevated existence.  It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous!

The elevator dinged and Chloe shoved her way through even before the doors had completely opened.  Her rapid walking—because she was still too refined to _run_ without an emergency—got her from point A to point B in no time and she swiftly shut the door.

Her room.  Her room was safe.  It was polished.  It was refined and amazing.  And it was absolutely hers.

Just like he should have been.

Just like _he_ should have been.

Just like he _should have been!_

Chloe threw her bag as far away from her as she could.  What had happened?  Why wasn’t he hers?!  Why wasn’t anything hers!?

Presidency and popularity:  ripped away from her.

The fear of her classmates and power over them:  robbed from her.

The first ever true friend she had ever known in life.  Utterly and completely _stolen_.

By that evil little witch.  The stupid little girl with no backbone.  The one with clothes that ripped too easily and knees that got all scratched up.  That stupid little brat who dared to believe—and have everyone else believe with her—that she was the better of the two.  Chloe had power. She had wealth.  She had prestige.  She had _everything_.

_Knock, knock_.

“Mademoiselle, I’ve brought you some soup.”

“I hate soup!” cried the girl, realizing all too late that her beautiful voice had cracked and that tears were streaming down her face.

“I realize that, mademoiselle, though your father did insist on soup if you were feeling unwell.”

Chloe pouted.  Who had told her father that she was home?  He would come in sometime soon to check on her, she supposed.  It would probably be better to let the soup in and dump it when no one was looking.  She turned to the window to avoid being seen with her mascara running.

“Come in,” ordered the girl.  Her butler opened the door respectfully and set the dishes on the table in the middle of her room.  As he had learned to do, he stood and waited for a dismissal.  Chloe didn’t feel like giving it.

Silence reigned for a few moments.  Chloe working to make sure her voice wouldn’t betray her again (not like the butler would care) and he waiting patiently for her word to leave.

“Is there anything else you require, mademoiselle?” asked he.  Chloe scoffed.

“What a stupid question.”  Chloe looked out of the window, her tightly held anger beginning to seep away.  In its place dwelt sadness.  Sadness was something she couldn’t deal with.  She needed to be angry.  She needed to _fight_ something. Anything!

She thought back to the cause of all her misery.  That blessed anger returned.

“It’s all that girl’s fault!  She’s taken everything from me!  No one fears me anymore!  No one respects me!  I’m higher than them!  I can make their lives miserable!  But she’s taken everything!  And every time I try to fight back, she just takes one more thing!  She takes and she takes and she takes and I hate her!  Why can’t she just be like how she used to be and leave me alone!?”

Screaming was good.  Screaming was therapeutic.  Screaming…

…got rid of her anger.

A colorful curse word flew through her head without heat.  Tears flowed freely from her eyes all she wanted was to be angry again.  But she couldn’t muster up the energy.

Oh, she _hated_ this.

And he didn’t say one word.

Good.  She didn’t want to listen to him anyways.  But he was there, he might as well listen to her.  It’s not like he had anything better to do.

“She took Adrien…” whispered Chloe.  “You think she’d be fine with turning the entire class against me.  You think she’d be satisfied with humiliating me.  You’d think she’d be happy with her stupid hero act that she puts on for everyone.  But no.  She took everything, and then she took more…  Why’d she take him, too?”

Silence reigned for a moment, and Chloe took it to try and pull herself together.

She looked out the window at the meager peasants wandering about the street.  Some of them hurried to work.  Others were walking leisurely.  Some of them walked in pairs or groups.  Others walked alone.

So alone.

“Mademoiselle, if I may, perhaps it is less of a matter of her taking them than of you pushing them away.”

Indignation flooded her, but did not fuel her.  The most she could muster was a glare that he would never see.

“Excuse you, I never pushed my Adrikins away.  I was loving and caring and the best girlfriend he could have ever chosen!”

_And didn’t_.

Those two words were too sour for even her mouth, so she let them hang.  Like a sopping wet coat, too dirty to even come inside.

Because the fact of the matter was that he didn’t choose her.  He chose that spineless little wimp who Chloe could have easily bested in many departments.  Looks, wealth, attention.  He could have had it all in a nice package named Chloe.  And yet he didn’t.  He chose someone who looked like a kindergartener, had the allowance of a four year old, and only drooled over his looks.

Where was Marinette Dupain-Cheng when his mother disappeared?

Where was she when Adrien cried himself to sleep at their sleepovers?

Where was she when she taught him how to leave security?

Where was she when Adrien needed somebody and Chloe was the one who took him shopping?

Where was she?

Back at home with her two doting parents and puny bakery and pipe dreams that would never come true, that’s where.  Chloe was there.  Chloe kept him busy.  Chloe loved him.

So why didn’t he choose her?

“Mademoiselle, that may perhaps be the first time I have heard you refer to any other person’s actions as a choice.”

Chloe’s head hurt.  Her heart hurt.  Her voice hurt.  Her eyes were itchy.  And she _still_ needed to throw away that stupid soup.

“Leave.”

Her butler made no further comment and left the room as instructed.  She waited until the door clicked closed quietly before turning to the table.  There, on the silver platter, stood one bowl of soup and a cup of something equally warm.  Irritated yet confused, Chloe picked the note up.

_Ginger tea and honey._

The girl scoffed quietly, but took a sip.  She wasn’t actually sick, but the warm liquid did help her throbbing head.  She eyed the soup in distaste before abandoning it and walking to her bed with her cup.

After all, she hated soup.


End file.
